She sends me esoteric
Happy meals that include:
Fried mushrooms of dubious origin
cookies with fortunes wrapped around the outside
and little poems written on napkins
like:
I'm sliding down your banister, again
All the way to the floor
where you'll Spin me
around and around
When I ask her what they mean,
She blows a straw wrapper across the table
And laughs
"They don't mean anything."